Woman in the Water

by Katerina Diamond

  Everything about it made Imogen’s skin crawl. She had, of course, been in relationships that weren’t healthy before. Possessive or jealous boyfriends who couldn’t appreciate that she wasn’t theirs to control, and she certainly wasn’t their property. But this? She couldn’t imagine this.

  ‘What do you think Angela’s connection is to Simon, then?’ Imogen said to Adrian, desperate not to address what they had just witnessed.

  ‘Were they lovers? Do you think she was having an affair with him and Corrigan found out? That certainly would explain the extent of the injuries,’ Adrian said.

  ‘That’s the obvious connection – they are much closer in age than she is with Reece. The passports certainly suggest they were running away together. But, when she found out that Glover was dead, she didn’t seem particularly heartbroken.’

  ‘Maybe she’s just broken altogether,’ Adrian said.

  Imogen reached over and held his hand, pushing her fingers through his and squeezing tight. She knew this case was making him think about things he didn’t like to think about. She wanted him to know that he could talk to her if he needed. The trouble was, he really wasn’t good at sharing, neither of them were. She just hoped the case didn’t drag on too long. The longer they were in it, the longer Adrian would have in which to fall apart.

  As they watched the house, Imogen found herself tensing when the Corrigans were in the same room together, afraid that he was going to hurt Angela, afraid that they would see it and they still wouldn’t be able to get to her before any real damage was done. She flashed back to the memory of Leon Quick plunging the knife into himself and how quickly his life had ended. How helplessly they had watched it happen.

  Angela walked into the kitchen and Reece grabbed his coat and left. Imogen looked over to Adrian. They saw Reece’s car lights disappear up the road.

  ‘Looks like we won’t have to wait ’til tomorrow, after all,’ she said, starting the car.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Sitting in the Corrigans’ living room, Imogen couldn’t help but wonder what kind of things went down in this house. Every surface was spotless, every cushion plumped and placed strategically. She avoided sitting on the sofa, knowing what had just taken place there.

  Imogen had seen Angela’s injuries and she wasn’t healed when she left the hospital, so her husband must have seen them, too. Added to that was the fact that she most likely wasn’t wearing make-up under those clothes. There was no getting away from that fact – whether he was involved or not, Reece knew something awful had happened to his wife.

  Since Reece Corrigan had left, Angela had got herself a glass and a crystal decanter with some honey brown liquid in it. She poured herself a generous measure.

  ‘You shouldn’t be here,’ Angela said.

  ‘Neither should you,’ Imogen said. ‘Why did you leave the hospital?’

  ‘If you’re here when he gets back then we’ll all be in trouble.’

  ‘What kind of trouble?’ Adrian said.

  ‘You don’t want to know,’ Angela responded.

  ‘We’re police officers,’ Imogen said. ‘He can’t do anything to us.’

  Angela scoffed and saluted Imogen with her glass. ‘If you say so.’

  ‘Were you lying the whole time when you said you didn’t know what happened?’ Imogen said.

  ‘I don’t remember that night. I did know my name and who I was, though.’

  She drank the contents and poured herself another.

  ‘The bruises you had in hospital don’t just appear, someone did that to you.’

  ‘I don’t want to talk about it. Please go.’

  ‘We can help you. There are shelters for women in your situation,’ Adrian said. ‘Why don’t you let us help you?’

  ‘I doubt there are many women in my situation. You have no idea what he is capable of. He doesn’t care that you’re police. If he wants to hurt you, he will. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll get out while you still can.’

  ‘Like you said, we’re the police. Getting out while we can isn’t really the way we operate. We can protect you,’ Adrian said.

  Imogen could feel how much he wanted to save this woman. It wasn’t about her, though – it was almost a selfishness on his part. If she got hurt again then Adrian would feel bad. Maybe that’s what things like this were always about, maybe that’s what their entire job was – just making sure the police themselves didn’t feel crap.

  Angela smiled and took another swig of the liquid in her tumbler.

  ‘You think that, but you can’t. He always wins. Always.’

  ‘Can you tell us about Simon Glover?’ Imogen said.

  ‘Simon?’ She took another swig. Still emotionless, still cold.

  ‘Were you having an affair with him?’ Imogen said.

  ‘Kind of, I guess, but it was more of a friendship. I don’t have many friends; I’m not allowed. He was one of Reece’s favourites and so he used to spend a lot of time here. He has a few favourites, for a while, at least. We became friends in secret. It never went any further than that. I wasn’t sleeping with him.’

  ‘You had feelings for him?’ Adrian said.

  ‘I think so. I don’t know. I was too scared to have feelings for him.’

  ‘Did he know that your husband was hurting you?’ Imogen asked.

  ‘At first, no. Everyone loves Reece. Believe it or not, he can be quite the charmer when he wants to be. Reece’—she spat his name—‘is really good at making people like him, until they see who he really is. Usually, if that happens, if he lets you see who he really is, then you need to be scared.’

  ‘So, what happened to Simon?’ Adrian said.

  ‘He was helping me to leave. New name, new passports and tickets to Canada. I thought I was finally going to be free thanks to Simon – and now he’s dead.’

  ‘Are you saying your husband killed him?’ Adrian said. Imogen shot him a look; he shouldn’t be putting words in her mouth.

  ‘I’m saying it’s not safe for you here. If he thinks you are trying to help me to leave, then he will stop you. Somehow, he will stop you. I have to be here. I can handle it.’

  ‘Do you love him?’ Imogen said.

  ‘It’s complicated.’

  ‘Why is it complicated?’

  ‘I guess I’m just fucked up. You shouldn’t waste your time trying to help me. After what happened to Simon, I am not pulling anyone else into this. You both seem like good people. You should leave.’

  ‘What about Simon? Doesn’t he deserve justice?’ Imogen said.

  ‘You won’t get any justice here, just more pain,’ she said, swigging the last of her drink.

  Imogen watched her face. This coldness wasn’t an act. She wasn’t pretending. She was broken. For someone so young to be so completely resigned to this fate was incomprehensible to Imogen. Angela knew what the man she was living with was capable of, they knew what he was capable of, but they were powerless to stop him without her testimony.

  ‘Is there anything you can tell us that would help in our investigation into Simon Glover’s death? If you know what happened to him then you need to tell us. We should bring you in for questioning anyway. Just tell us what he did. How did you end up in the river?’ Imogen said.

  ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’

  ‘Are you just going to wait until he succeeds and kills you?’ Adrian said.

  ‘I can’t have anyone else getting hurt because of me. Now, please leave. I’m tired and he could be back at any moment. I’d like to have a bath and be asleep before he gets home.’

  ‘You’re not safe here,’ Adrian said.

  ‘I know my place. As long as I do what I’m told then no one else gets hurt. I can’t have anyone else on my conscience.’

  ‘Have there been others?’

  ‘There won’t be from now on.’

  ‘Did you know Leon Quick?’ Imogen asked.

  ‘A little. Reece told me he took his own life; I
was sorry to hear that. I didn’t know him well, but I know he helped Simon out, got him away from Reece. For a little while, at least. I don’t know why Leon killed himself. I promise.’

  ‘Do you think the suicide was anything to do with your husband?’ Imogen said.

  ‘It wouldn’t surprise me, but I honestly don’t know. I didn’t know Leon but to say hello. I know Simon and he were close friends.’

  ‘Why didn’t you ever call the police?’ Adrian said.

  ‘I did call the police. Not long ago, actually. They did nothing and so I asked Simon to help me leave and now he’s dead. He got away from all this and now, because of me, he’s gone.’ Angela sighed heavily.

  ‘You spoke to the police? When?’ Imogen asked.

  ‘Goodnight, detectives.’ She stood up and walked through to the front door.

  Imogen waited for Adrian to go first, but he wasn’t going to let this go. He was projecting a lot of energy. She could feel his agitation as he had asked questions and see it in the way he looked at Angela. She had become a symbol to him for the mother he had neglected to protect when he was a child. A mother he couldn’t have protected even if he wanted to. A child can’t fight off a full-grown man.

  One thing Imogen did know was that people in these situations needed to help themselves. Angela needed to make the decision. They couldn’t do it for her. In other cases, if the wife wasn’t on board then she just lied and protected her abuser. They needed to show Angela that they could help.

  They stepped out of the house and Angela closed the door.

  ‘You need to stop taking this so personally, Adrian. Look at you! We are doing everything we can,’ Imogen said quietly as they walked towards the car.

  Imogen reached to take Adrian’s hand, but he pulled away and got in the driver’s seat. She climbed in and folded her arms, knowing if she said what she was really thinking it would only make things worse. She knew he felt responsible for this woman. As though it was somehow his fault. That by getting away from his situation at home he was somehow just as culpable as his father was, as Reece Corrigan was. Adrian was pulling away from Imogen and she didn’t know how to stop it.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  I lie down for him and let him do what he needs to do. That’s how it’s always worked. It’s never been any other way. When it’s over he stands up and I am relieved when he tells me he is leaving, he is working on winning a contract and needs to schmooze some client or other. I zone out as he speaks; I don’t care where he is going. All I can think about is getting clean and sleeping until morning. First, I need a strong drink to burn away the taste of his saliva in my mouth.

  I knew they would come and speak to me alone. I suppose they have to, it’s their job. I see them park the car outside just as R has left; I never know how long he will be gone for and so them being here makes me very nervous. I wish they had waited a little longer. I would like to have a shower and maybe a few more drinks before I have to pretend some more.

  Maybe they know enough already, maybe they have figured out all the different ways in which R has hurt me. If I were them, I would assume the worst of R. It all depends on what you think is the worst a human being can be. They have no idea.

  I doubt any one person knows the full extent of R’s malevolence; he is evil. I wasn’t brought up religious or anything and I know that word comes with religious connotations, but if there is a devil, then R is the human representation. I know he will be the end of me one day.

  I open the door and the police officers both come in and follow me to the lounge, where I have left my drink on the coffee table. They sit down. I notice DS Imogen Grey glance at the sofa and realise they were probably watching from the roadside and could see inside the lounge. I doubt they can see me blush through my heavy make-up – what does it matter, anyway? Humiliation is not something that particularly bothers me anymore; if I do experience it, it’s fleeting.

  It must seem strange, a woman in my situation, with a house that’s ninety per cent windows, but it’s all part of R’s game. He likes to make sure I am always switched on, always playing my part of doting wife. There are a few rooms in the house where there isn’t a view – those are usually the rooms he picks to teach me a lesson.

  I see no point in lying to the officers about anything they already know. They saw me at my absolute worst and so it’s silly to pretend that everything is peachy. I can feel the concern coming from DS Miles and I know that he’s already too involved to let go. Maybe I need to be completely odious in order for him to walk away. I don’t want him to get hurt.

  They ask me about Simon. I don’t remember the night that we ended up in the river but even if I did, I wouldn’t tell them. I remember what we arranged, but after I left the house that day everything is a blur. I have blacked out before and the doctor explained to me at the hospital that I had experienced head trauma and that it could affect my memory, maybe even permanently.

  I can’t imagine R dumping us both in the river to be found; that seems far too clumsy for him. I just can’t remember. All I see when I try is that one image of Simon, begging for them to stop. I shake it off again. It’s my constant companion these last few days and part of me hopes I never regain the memory of the hours surrounding that moment.

  The female officer, DS Imogen Grey, seems angry with me. I think there are several reasons for this. First, because she feels powerless to help me. She wonders why I am protecting R, but I am not protecting him, I am protecting her. Also, because my weakness reflects on her, on our gender, I know there are women out there who can’t imagine themselves in this situation – they are lucky. I didn’t go looking for this. This is the life that found me.

  They ask me their questions and I bat away the ones I feel will help them in any way. I am purposely cold and obnoxious. I don’t want them to pity me; pity is the last thing I need. I don’t want their help.

  I tell them what they already know about Simon and I don’t know anything about Leon Quick to explain why he killed himself. I have absolutely no doubt that R is involved in Leon’s death; there was a certain look of accomplishment on his face when he told me about the suicide. If any one person could have that much influence over another person’s life, it’s R. God only knows what R did to him.

  The police have been to this house several times in the past, once quite recently, back when I still had the tiniest sliver of hope that I could maybe one day escape. I watched R talk the police constable around with ease – a few choice words and my call was explained away as a prank of sorts. We all laughed, and I watched on hopelessly as he left me to face yet another round with R.

  I can fake any mood thanks to my years of experience playing the role of dutiful wife. Knowing that the police could no longer help me, I decided to contact Simon. I wish I had never made that call. Maybe he would still be alive. Maybe I would still have hope for some kind of future. That one phone call was the beginning of the end. There is only one way out of this and that’s in a wooden box.

  I see both DS Grey and DS Miles’ frustration. Part of me wants to tell them it’s nothing they are doing wrong, they are saying all the right things to make me want to speak to them. I wish I could. I wish I believed that they could help me, but I have been here too many times before. They are too late. I have no faith in the system. The only thing I believe in is the fact that this is my life. There is no way out.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Adrian was already at his desk when Imogen arrived at work. He’d been awake for hours anyway and so he sneaked away before she woke, leaving a coffee and clingfilmed marmite sandwich on the bedside table. He wanted to find out as much as possible about Corrigan and he didn’t need Imogen there second-guessing his motivations all the time. Had he told her too much about his past? Was she reading into things? Seeing things that weren’t there. Would things be different if they weren’t together?

  She was waiting for him to snap, he could see that. It made him feel like she had no faith in him
and what bothered him the most was that she was right. Being level-headed was admittedly not one of his strengths. Occasionally, he let his emotions get in the way of critical thinking. Yes, he was determined to stop Corrigan from hurting his wife, but that was literally their job – it wasn’t him going off half-cocked on some personal vendetta. It’s what he was paid to do.

  The fact that he was going to enjoy nailing this shithead was neither here nor there. He had found the information on the man who sued Corrigan Construction and he’d also contacted dispatch to find out if there had, indeed, been a call received from Angela Corrigan.

  ‘What time did you get here?’ Imogen asked as she put her bag in the bottom drawer of her desk.

  ‘A couple of hours ago; just wanted to get ahead of this. I’ve got a name and address for the disgruntled employee.’

  ‘Is he local?’

  ‘Yep – ten minutes’ drive, tops. Lives in one of those nice flats by the river.’

  ‘We should check in with the DCI before we go. Give her a heads-up of what we’re doing.’

  ‘Why not wait until we actually have some information?’

  ‘Remember what I said yesterday. By the book. Adrian, we can’t take any risks with this case. There is too much at stake.’

  ‘Fine. But I’d appreciate it if you stopped treating me like I’m overreacting and taking it all personally.’

  ‘That’s not what I meant. We’ve been burned before by not following the rules. It always comes back to bite us on the arse. I just want to make sure that we are both protected from any repercussions and that when we put this fucker away, he stays away and doesn’t get off on some technicality because we fucked up.’

  ‘OK,’ Adrian conceded. ‘Sorry I snapped. I am not trying to dodge the rules, I just want to get this done as quickly as possible, she can’t stay there much longer.’

  ‘Then let’s work together and get it done. I want him put away, too. We keep the DCI informed every step of the way and that way, we are covered if it all goes Pete Tong.’